


requiesce in somnium

by lacrimalis



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Character Study, Dreamscapes, Dreamsharing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Theseus Bashing (Hades Video Game), friends to strangers to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27774052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacrimalis/pseuds/lacrimalis
Summary: Hypnos is an avid follower of Asterius's conquests in the Elysian Coliseum, but the Bull of Minos has been a person of interest for Hypnos since long before his death.
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur & Hypnos (Hades Video Game), Asterius | The Minotaur/Hypnos (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 187





	1. sweet dreams

Hypnos’s demesne of Sleep is unusual among the gods.

Mortals beseech the gods for boons and favors to suit their ambitions: those hoping for victory on the battlefield pray to Ares; those anticipating trouble in love seek guidance from Aphrodite; those whose lives depend on a bountiful harvest pray to Demeter; and those who must brave the open road beseech Hermes for safety on their travels.

But the gods do not bestow gifts upon those who have not already earned their favor, be it by way of sacrifice or exuberant praise or personal accomplishments or nepotism. And mortals may go their whole lives without ever invoking the names of those whose whims determine their fortune. What need is there to ask Poseidon for safe passage across the sea, for one who never sets sail? Who thinks to ask Artemis for swiftness who does not hunt? And of what use is Aphrodite’s grace to one who has no interest in love?

Yet there is not a single mortal who does not sleep.

… Nor is there one who doesn’t _die,_ categorically, or else they wouldn’t be _mortal_ , not that Hypnos doesn’t respect and admire his twin brother's work – he does! – but the average mortal dies only once and sleeps at least 12,000 times before that, so Hypnos doesn’t think it’s unfair to suggest that their professional responsibilities are just a _little bit different in scope_ – 

Mortals do not pray to Hypnos, but he fears if they did he wouldn’t have much to say in response. He is too preoccupied with his work.

Because Hypnos has two jobs: being the curator of mortal (and sometimes immortal) dreams, and being the doorman for all the newly-dead arriving in the House of Hades.

And it is not that he is ungrateful to Lord Hades for giving him a job. But he wishes Lord Hades would be a bit more lenient with his bouts of unconsciousness. When Hypnos is pulled into sleep while on the job, it is strictly for the purpose of curating the dreams of the many thousands of mortals (and the occasional immortal) swaddled in Sleep's embrace. Hypnos thinks his mistake might have been responding to Lord Hades’ inquiries into his sleeping habits in jest one too many times. Any attempt he makes to justify it _now_ is met with the same beleaguered resignation as his terrible jokes.

Oh well! He supposes there’s nothing for it.

At least Hypnos does not have to craft dreams individually – or else he _really_ might not have time for both jobs! Thankfully, Hypnos is more akin to a conductor, guiding the ebb and flow of the realm of dreams and leaving the finer details to the dreamers inhabiting it. Each individual knows best what they would most like to be dreaming of, after all, so it's best to delegate these things.

Or, it usually is.

Tonight there is one dreamer who does not follow Hypnos’s lead, and it piques his curiosity enough to leave the world's orchestra to its own devices while he investigates the anomaly.

The dreamer is in a black and featureless void, which itself is not great cause for concern. Some people just don't resonate with the flow of the dream – these he likens to sailboats missing a favorable wind, which must consequently postpone their seaward journey for another day.

But the dreamer's mind is open – eager, even. Hypnos has never encountered a sleeping mind so desperate for pleasant dreams, yet so utterly incapable of conjuring them. As if this individual somehow needs instruction on the matter.

Well. Hypnos _is_ something of an expert on the subject. Something like this might even be considered part of his job description! 

"Hello?" Hypnos calls softly.

Dreams can be anything – a memory, a fantasy, a riot of shapes and colors. But the act of visiting a dream can make the dreamer more aware of their own mind, as a thing distinct from their guest. And at his call, a sleeping form resolves itself into being at the center of the void. Hypnos draws his quilted cloak closer and kneels beside the dreamer. It is a child, he thinks – and what an active imagination this one has! Their subconscious projection has the lower body of a mortal, and the upper body and head of a brown calf.

Hypnos is endeared by creative minds, and he likes children most of all. Their dreams are vivid, the imagery wild and wanton and free – not like the dreams of adults, which Hypnos must often wrest from worldly concerns of tithes and taxes and politics.

"Hey, little guy," Hypnos tries again. "I'm Hypnos, the God of Sleep. What's your name?" The sleeping child does not respond, and – he really doesn't like to do this, root around in people's heads, but he's at a loss for how else to resolve what he perceives as a serious problem. Gently, he reaches out to touch the dreamer's head with a hand, and gets an imperceptible flinch for his trouble. Pretending to sleep, then.

Hypnos ventures light-footed into the child's mind, and comes away with the information he needs. He pats the child's head and says, "Is your name Asterius?"

The child's eyes blink open, dark and sparkling with wonder. "You know my name?" Asterius asks in a small, curious voice.

Hypnos retrieves his hand to cover his mouth with it, resisting the urge to coo in delight. So cute! "I sure do," he says with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Asterius sits up and stares at Hypnos. "Did… Did my mother send you?"

Hypnos frowns thoughtfully. "I don't think so. Unless she did and I don't know it, I guess! Say, what's your mother's name?"

Asterius lowers his head, drawing Hypnos’s attention to the small pair of horns atop his head. Asterius must be the son of a farmhand, to be so well-acquainted with calves to account for such a small detail. And while his fanciful form makes his face difficult to read, his body language and the atmosphere of the dark dreamscape is unmistakable. The thought of Asterius's mother makes him terribly sad. "Pasiphae."

Hypnos can hardly keep a thing in his head at the best of times, but he commits this woman's name to memory. "Hmm… Sorry, little guy. I don't know her."

Asterius's brow furrows. Hypnos watches the strange interplay of facial muscles with fascination. He didn't think calves could make such complex facial expressions. "My… father?" he asks doubtfully, and at Hypnos’s clueless expression he adds, "Minos."

Hypnos shakes his head. "Nope, sorry. Doesn't ring a bell!" Actually, the name 'Minos' _does_ sound familiar, but Hypnos can't place it. He's sure it'll come to him. “I came because I thought maybe you were having trouble with your dreams. Kinda gloomy in here, isn’t it?”

Asterius tilts his head in puzzlement. Hypnos smiles and stifles another squeal of delight at Asterius’s endearing mannerisms.

Hypnos leans in and whispers conspiratorially, “Watch this.” And Hypnos sweeps his hand through the air in an arc, filling the sky with stars.

“Oh,” Asterius breathes. The stars reflect in his eyes. “Is that what the sky looks like at night?”

Hypnos tilts his own head at that. “You haven’t seen the night sky before?”

Asterius shakes his head. “I have, but it doesn’t look like this. The lights aren’t so… clear, and sharp. They’re more like clouds.”

Hypnos taps his chin. Asterius must be _very_ near-sighted. “Most people see the stars in the sky this way, I think. But I can’t say for sure – I’ve never seen it in person.”

Asterius blinks at Hypnos in confusion. “You mean _you_ haven’t seen the night sky before?”

“Well, hey! It makes sense that _I_ haven’t seen it!” Hypnos light-heartedly objects. “I live in the Underworld.”

Asterius leans forward with interest. “Really? What’s that like?”

“Eh, dreary, full of dead people. You wouldn’t like it,” Hypnos insists with a flap of his hand. “How about some rolling green hills instead?” Hypnos claps his hands once, and shapely earth and lush grass sprouts from the place where he sits like a ripple from a drop of water. Asterius runs his hand across it with a pleased look, and Hypnos is satisfied – mostly.

Something is missing. He mulls over the problem for a moment before inspiration strikes. He rubs his palms together quickly, then opens them slowly, and when he blows across them flower petals appear, flying across the hills and seeding thousands of flowers of every shape, size and color amid the grass, from whence they sprout immediately in an explosion of color and fragrance.

“Oh!” Asterius says. “I’ve never smelled these before.” He picks up a flower and holds it to the wide flat of his bovine nose.

Hypnos leans back with a lazy smile, proud of his work. “I don’t know what all of them are called, but these are some of the flowers I’ve seen in other peoples’ dreams. You like ‘em?”

Asterius sighs dreamily and sprawls out in the flower bed that has bloomed beneath them.

Hypnos laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He pats Asterius on the head and rises, floating a few inches off the ground. He isn’t eager to depart, but better for him to leave the child with a good-bye than vanish against his will when someone rouses him from his nap. “I’ve got to go. Sweet dreams, Asterius.”

Asterius hums, mindless with the delight of all the unfamiliar flowers.

Hypnos smiles and leaves him to it.

–

Hypnos is doing his counts in the foyer as usual. Mortals haven't stopped dying yet, and so his work here is never finished.

At least he gets to see his brothers! He waves to Charon whenever his longboat emerges from the Pool of Styx with a new batch of shades, and he waves to Thanatos the precious few times his twin comes through escorting a VIP. Charon always waves back, though Thanatos rolls his eyes instead.

Thanatos is very busy, Hypnos reminds himself. 

And the shades are always talking, griping about their circumstances, mourning their lives, bragging about their noble deaths – even as Hypnos can see quite clearly on his list that their cause of death is something like _Shot with an Arrow to the Back._ So it's never boring.

It is during one of the rare lulls in arrivals that Hypnos overhears a conversation which reminds him that Minos is the king of the island of Crete.

He glances at Lord Hades, but the God of the Dead is focused on his parchmentwork, even grumbling quietly in that way he does that indicates he is completely absorbed in his work. Hypnos judges it safe to waylay the shades to slake his curiosity.

After a few inquiries, Hypnos is uncharacteristically sober. Charon arrives with another batch of shades, and Hypnos sets about checking them in and tallying them up with mechanical instinct. Charon gives his brother a look of concern for his deep distraction, but Hypnos misses it completely.

King Minos of Crete has a wife named Pasiphae, and by her, three children: Catreus, Deucalion, and Androgeus. It is also said that, due to a series of improbable godly interventions, Pasiphae had another son outside her marriage.

The Minotaur – half man, half bull – consigned to a labyrinth of Daedalus's construction.

The conversational topic has made its way across the room by now, and one shade says imperiously, "Cretans know his given name to be Asterion."

Another shade spits and says, "He's _named_ for Asterion, but that was Minos's father. The Minotaur's name is Asterius."

"It _is_ Asterion," the first shade protests, at which point Hypnos loses interest in the argument.

Supposedly Asterius was placed in the labyrinth because he was an uncontrollable beast, whose appetite for human flesh made him a danger to everyone around him. Hypnos finds this hard to credit, and the implications hard to countenance. Asterius had been as sweet and harmless as any human child. Certainly the circumstances of his birth were a little… unusual, but bulls eat _grass_ and humans can eat just about anything. Feeding Asterius should hardly have posed a challenge to an island nation that frequently goes toe-to-toe with _Athens,_ the city of philosophers and scholars!

Hypnos has seen too many shades delivered to the Halls of Hades by assassination to claim ignorance of the convolute politics mortals mire themselves in. The rumors about Asterius’s ravenous appetite benefit King Minos most, and so that is probably who started them. The king of Crete must be eager to lock away Asterius, who is not only evidence of his wife’s misconduct but also proof that Minos betrayed Poseidon’s good faith.

That young Asterius must suffer needlessly for something as small as Minos's _pride_ sits uneasily in Hypnos’s stomach. It seems unjust. Unfair. And all at once, Hypnos finds himself exhausted by the petty machinations and conspiracies of mortals. The constant anxiety of knowing they’re going to die someday must be what makes them all so crazy. Maybe if they took a nap they would calm down.

Yet at the same time, Hypnos thinks he understands a little better, now – why the other gods persist in involving themselves in the affairs of mortals. 

Hypnos would like nothing more than to get involved.

But what can he do? He’s no Ares, Artemis, or Athena, so he can’t give Asterius a blessing to fight his way out of the labyrinth. Even Demeter could fill the labyrinth with food, so poor young Asterius wouldn’t go hungry. Human flesh, Hypnos thinks with a scoff. Honestly…

And even if he had the power to ameliorate Asterius’s situation, King Minos is a demigod with the favor of _multiple_ Olympians. Despite betraying Poseidon’s confidence, Minos is somehow still in good standing with the gods. If it’s Minos’s will to keep Asterius in the labyrinth, then the Olympians will uphold it.

With his demesne of Sleep, Hypnos has few options.

If nothing else, he can continue to keep Asterius company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i write any canoodling it's going to be after asterius is an adult
> 
> also asterius doesn't know what the stars are supposed to look like because cows can't see real far. they've evolved to be more attuned to smells and sounds -- though i hc his sight will improve a little as he grows and becomes a bit more uhhh anthropomorphic


	2. mothers

Hypnos visits the dreams of Minos and Pasiphae as a matter of course. He's doubtful their perspectives will induce him to be sympathetic toward their reasoning, but if nothing else, the excursion could provide valuable insight into Asterius's former home life, before…

Before.

King Minos dreams of his throne room, holding audiences wherein he holds the lives of his subjects in one hand. Hidden, occupying the architecture of the dream itself, Hypnos produces a likeness of Asterius to approach the throne from the side, soliciting his step-father for attention.

King Minos recoils, and the cruel sneer on his face does not inspire Hypnos with confidence. Minos opens his mouth and spouts vitriol at the child of his wife, the product of his shame.

Then he raises his hand.

Hypnos dispels the illusion and departs, a sour taste in his mouth.

According to rumor, Pasiphae is half Oceanid – a type of ocean-dwelling nymph. But she lives among mortals now, and Hypnos has no idea how she was raised, so there's no telling how she feels about her son.

When Hypnos enters her dream Pasiphae sits in a window seat framed by deep blue curtains, staring out at the ocean with an expression not unlike longing.

It is strange, Hypnos thinks, that husband and wife are both relatively lucid when he finds them. Perhaps this can be credited to their godly and naiadic bloodlines. He decides not to question his good fortune, and manifests a likeness of Asterius again.

The door to Pasiphae's room opens with a creak, and a voice calls, "Mother?"

From his invisible, incorporeal vantage point, Hypnos can witness every angle of the scene. Pasiphae's expression is a haunted one. He almost leaves, then. The bitter taste of Minos's reaction still lingers on Hypnos’s tongue, and he is not sure he can stomach Pasiphae's horrified screams.

But he stays, and Pasiphae turns and whispers, "Asterius?"

The illusory Asterius steps into the room and lowers his head, gazing at his mother dolefully. And with a wretched sob Queen Pasiphae approaches the child, falls to her knees, and embraces him.

Hypnos is stunned, his thoughts struck silent by this display of tender maternal affection. He sees too much of himself in the scene, of crying to Nyx about a confusing nightmare. Pasiphae strokes Asterius's head, pressing her tear-stained cheek to his forehead, rubbing his back and arms as if she is trying to warm his bones from a wintry absence of affection. Astounded, Hypnos loses control of the illusory Asterius, who now embraces his mother, responding to the desires of the dreamer. Of Pasiphae.

"My child, my sweet," Pasiphae weeps. With great reluctance she pulls away to stare at Asterius’s face, as if she is starved of the sight of him. Her eyes land on the brass ring in his nose, and the heartbreak on her face grows all the more pronounced as she carefully lifts it with a trembling hand.

Hypnos had overlooked the accessory when he first met Asterius, assuming it was simply part of the child's vividly imagined dream form. With the revelation that Asterius truly  _ looks like that _ in the material world, Hypnos had failed to consider the implications of him having a lead ring in his nose.

"What did they do to you?" Pasiphae asks tremulously. Her voice breaks, and Hypnos does not catch all of what she says next, only: "... like an animal!"

Hypnos feels nauseous, and terribly sad, and terribly ashamed for inducing and subsequently spying on this tragic scene. He manifests himself outside the door and knocks gently. "Queen Pasiphae?" he calls. His voice is strangely hoarse.

"Who is it!" she snaps, and a shuffling of fabric tells Hypnos she is probably making an effort to hide Asterius from whomever she fears waits behind the door.

Hypnos enters the room, and is set upon by all the desperate violence of Pasiphae's tearful glare. Her resolve flickers to make way for confusion, but only for a moment. She tucks Asterius further behind her skirts and demands to know, "Who are you?"

The line of Hypnos’s shoulders droops beneath his quilted cloak. "Um. I'm Hypnos, Your Majesty. The God of Sleep."

Her combative posture persists as her brow furrows. Comprehension and heartbreak dawn at once. "... So I am dreaming," she surmises. She looks down at the illusion of her son mournfully. "My Asterius is not here." 

"... He can if you want him to be," Hypnos says. "Dreams can be whatever you want."

"Fool," Pasiphae scoffs as she wipes away her tears. "I do not comfort him for my  _ own _ benefit." Though even as she speaks, she draws the dream Asterius protectively into her arms.

Hypnos has little in the way of social graces, but even he knows enough not to mention the contradiction.

"So, God of Sleep? You must have come for a reason." Pasiphae tilts her chin up, bringing to bear the strength of presence befitting a queen. Hypnos wouldn't have guessed she was crying mere moments ago. "What do you want?"

Hypnos hesitates, reminded uncomfortably of Nyx's scolding tone. Suddenly his reasoning for showing Pasiphae Asterius feels callous and cruel. "I… wanted to know how you treated him. I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

Pasiphae snorts, unimpressed. "I see. And did you get what you wanted?"

Hypnos hunches his shoulders and winces, drawing his quilted cloak tight around his shoulders. That's a rhetorical question if Hypnos ever heard one – like when Lord Hades asked if Hypnos  _ really _ thought he wouldn't notice if he snuck off for a nap, and Hypnos had replied with foolish candor, 'yes'. Though it  _ had  _ been pretty funny to watch Lord Hades blow up over such a small thing…

There's nothing funny about this.

Hypnos clears his throat and meets Pasiphae's eyes. He can give her that much, at least, even if it makes his face flush with shame. "You're a good mother."

The intensity of Pasiphae's presence diminishes enough that Hypnos no longer feels chastened just for floating there, and some of the tension in his shoulders dissipates. "Private sentiment does not make one a good mother," Pasiphae corrects coldly. She turns away from Hypnos and returns to her window seat, favoring Dream Asterius with her lovelorn gaze as she settles him in her lap. "A good mother protects, and nurtures, and cares."

"But you  _ do _ care," Hypnos insists.

Pasiphae tosses her head. "Your hair splitting will not change the fact that I failed him. Do not insult me by attempting to absolve my guilt with empty words."

Hypnos does not know what to say to that. Perhaps it is better to say nothing at all. Despite Pasiphae's stormy expression, the ocean outside is still and calm, the sky defiantly beautiful. Hypnos drifts closer to the impossible tableau of mother and child admiring the sunset. Asterius will never see another sunset with his mother. 

Hypnos sits on the floor beside the window seat, childish and deferent. "Asterius is a good kid."

Pasiphae startles, turns sharply toward Hypnos. "You've met him? Is he all right? Is he–" She covers her mouth and closes her eyes, having realized the foolishness of her question the instant she voiced it.

Hypnos wisely answers the question they don't  _ both _ already know the answer to. "... Yeah, I met him last night. He thought you sent me."

Pasiphae sobs into her hand.

"... That's how I know you're a good mother," Hypnos says quietly. "Not just because you feel bad, or because you miss him. But because Asterius is good, and because he has so much faith in you that he thought you sent a  _ god _ to look after him."

Pasiphae laughs, holds Dream Asterius tightly to her chest. "Would that I could answer his faith with deeds." She takes a shuddering breath and meets Hypnos's gaze. Her eyes are deep, dark brown. Almost black. Asterius has her eyes, Hypnos realizes. "Are you?" she asks, and at Hypnos's faintly furrowed brow, she clarifies, "Looking after him?"

Hypnos nods. "Yeah. I'm gonna try."

"Good," says Pasiphae. And then, "Thank you."

–

When Hypnos wakes it is with a start, though no one has called for his attention. He drops his list and tears through the House in frantic search.

Hypnos finds Nyx standing at the balcony that overlooks the Styx in the western hall. It is Thanatos's favorite spot, when he is here and has a moment to spare. Perhaps she is thinking of Thanatos, then. Perhaps it will not be an imposition for her other son to interrupt this rare, unbusy moment of solace.

Nyx shifts slightly with the force of Hypnos's unexpected embrace. "Child?" She turns in his arms until his head is tucked against her belly. She strokes his hair, lays a firm ivory hand across his shuddering shoulders. "What is the matter?" asks Nyx.

Hypnos lifts his head and smiles through the unabating flood of tears. "Nothing! I just wanted to tell you… you're a good mother."

Nyx smiles, bemused and serene. Across the house, Lord Hades roars his outrage at Hypnos for abandoning his post. Nyx's hackles rise, her hair of starlight glowing with angry red pinpricks. Hypnos has always hidden behind her skirts, and she has come to his defense before Lord Hades countless times.

This time, Hypnos wipes his eyes and bids Nyx farewell with a kiss, before sailing back to the foyer to face Lord Hades' ire with a smile.

Nyx touches her cheek, staring after her ordinarily lackadaisical and indolent son, and she wonders what must have happened to inspire such a strange and maudlin mood in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nose rings on bulls are a safety measure to ensure the handler always has control over the animal in case it gets too wild and is in danger of hurting someone. this is perfectly normal for animals, but asterius is... a person... this is why pasiphae is upset about the nose ring.
> 
> thank u guys for ur comments so far, i would die for u 🥺
> 
> sorry technically no asterius this chapter, please forgive 😔 i promise he will be back soon


	3. palace poppies

Here’s the thing about Hypnos.

Lord Hades often complains that the God of Sleep is neither serious, nor diligent, nor reliable. But Hypnos has never aspired to embody these traits, or considered himself deficient for their lack. Admired them in his brother and mother, sure. But Hypnos has always chalked up this discrepancy in personality to their respective affinities.

For example: mortals can predict the coming and going of the day down to a hair’s width on a sundial. Provided one does their calculations correctly, they can rely upon the Night to arrive exactly when they expect her to, every single time.

Death is a bit less consistent from an outside perspective, but the way Hypnos sees it, the two have more similarities than differences. Night and Death are both inevitable. Both are beholden to a schedule – and Death’s timetable being oracular to all but their elusive sisters the Fates does not mean that there is not, in fact, a schedule.

But Sleep?

Sure, Sleep adheres _very loosely_ to a _semblance_ of a schedule. Most living creatures operate on a diurnal, nocturnal, or crepuscular rhythm – but these are just broad strokes! There are early risers, late risers, people who take naps at odd hours, or sleep for days, or _forego_ sleep for days – there’s no consistency at all!

And Hypnos will concede that for the most part, Sleep is just as inevitable as Night and Death. But if someone is adamant about avoiding it, they can always just die instead. Or become ascetic hermits – Hypnos is pretty sure a couple mortals have figured that one out, though he has no idea how they pulled it off.

… Anyway. Hypnos’s strengths are his creativity and his easy-going personality, not reliability or adherence to a schedule! Asking him to Do Something or Accomplish A Task is more likely to result in unmet expectations and disappointment, considering it’s rare for him to remain _conscious_ for more than half an hour at a time. So pretty much no one ever bothers asking.

Hypnos’s most enduring (and current) responsibility has been tallying up the newly dead which arrive at the House of Hades – and even that, Hypnos doubts Lord Hades expects him to do _well._ The God of the Dead had simply found Hypnos dozing in one of the many halls of the House one day, thrust the enchanted itinerary into his fumbling hands, and told Hypnos that if he was just going to drape himself all over the furniture and do nothing all day, then he might as well earn his keep and make himself useful instead.

And honestly, it suits him! Lord Hades is surprisingly perceptive, intuiting that Hypnos does his best work when he’s asked to devote the bare minimum effort and investment. And Hypnos appreciates that! He appreciates it so much that he even goes above and beyond – _greeting_ the newly dead isn’t at all what Lord Hades asked him to do, but Hypnos does it anyway! That’s his easy-going personality at work!

So, that’s Hypnos. Easy-going, laidback, fun at parties – but not one to be relied upon for basically anything of import.

… And yet.

And yet…!

And _yet,_ Hypnos is devoting heretofore unprecedented tenacity to the problem of Asterius’s situation. It consumes his waking and sleeping hours both. He doesn’t think he’s ever cared about anything this much! This is a brand new experience for him!

And Hypnos has never so _intensely_ dreaded the prospect of failure. Even Lord Hades, who he deeply respects, and his brother Thanatos, whom he loves very dearly, have never been able to chastise Hypnos on his job performance in a way that made Hypnos _feel bad._

But the thought of disappointing Pasiphae makes Hypnos feel absolutely _wretched._

Rather than troubling his thoughts and riddling him with anxiety, Hypnos finds this powerful emotional motivation only makes him all the more determined. To help Asterius. To ameliorate his suffering however he can.

–

The next time Hypnos sees Asterius, the child does not seem to have come any closer to mastering the art of dreamcraft. Though some of the flowers Hypnos left with him remain, their color and fragrance are dim imitations of the original blooms Hypnos seeded for him.

The rest of the dream is as dark as it was the first time Hypnos visited.

"Hey, Asterius!" Hypnos chirps, and Asterius rises from his bed of flowers at the sound of his voice.

When he sees Hypnos, Asterius smiles, his ears flicking up with alertness and delight. "It's you!"

"It's me!" Hypnos agrees. He kneels beside Asterius as the child rises to his knees. Hypnos picks a yellow flower, and its faint impression gains certainty of form in Hypnos's hand. "You remembered our flowers, I see."

A gentle pull on Hypnos’s quilted cloak draws his attention away from the flower he’s just rejuvenated. Asterius’s small brown hand holds the white lining of the cloak. His touch is tentative, like he’s unsure if he’s allowed.

Hypnos tilts his head and asks, “What’s up?”

Asterius’s eyes are wide and sparkling. “I thought I imagined you,” he admits softly.

Oh, that’s too tragic. It’s only with a great deal of effort that Hypnos manages to continue smiling indulgently, and even then it’s a near thing. This kid is going to kill him with heartache! Thanatos, please have mercy on your tender-hearted brother and don’t reap his soul just yet!

Hypnos channels the grace and languor of the gently flowing Lethe into his limbs, moving slowly so as not to startle Asterius. He perches the yellow flower above Asterius’s ear, and encloses the child’s small hand between both of his own. “You didn’t imagine me,” he assures Asterius softly. “I’m here.”

Asterius stares at their conjoined hands in wonderment. "You’re… Hypnos," he says, and Hypnos is cheered by his remembering.

Hypnos squeezes Asterius's hands, and Asterius's ears and tail flick gently. Now that Hypnos knows this projection reflects the child's actual appearance, somehow he finds his expressions even more endearing. He determinedly does not allow his gaze to linger on the brass nose ring lead.

"That's right," Hypnos says. He told Asterius last time that he was the God of Sleep, but maybe that's a little too abstract for a kid to understand? "Think of me as… a traveler on the road of dreams!" Hypnos suggests, raising a hand to hold this declaration aloft.

Asterius giggles at Hypnos’s melodrama. There is reservation in his voice, like a sad and lonely child making a great effort to be cheered by empty words of comfort.

Well. Hypnos supposes that's exactly what he is. This kid has got to stop breaking his heart, or he’ll have to pray to Lady Aphrodite to survive it! Or else pray that Thanatos spontaneously discovers an unprofessionally nepotistic streak.

“So… you’re just passing through.” Asterius is being very good at keeping a stiff upper lip as he asks, but Hypnos recognizes the dimming hope in his eyes. He imagines he looked much the same, when Nyx told Hypnos that someday he would have to stop hiding behind her skirts.

"I gotta," Hypnos says. "I have work to do while I'm awake. But I'm gonna keep coming back to check on you, okay?"

Asterius nods, and Hypnos busies himself pulling Asterius to his feet to give the kid a little privacy while he wipes his eyes.

"And as long as I'm here, I'll show you something good," Hypnos promises. He guides Asterius by the hand, and wills the void to transform into a shallow cave from which to guide Asterius into the light.

Asterius shields his eyes from the evening sun, chosen by Hypnos for the pleasantly soft colors it makes of the sky, and he smothers a laugh at the way Asterius’s ears stiffen in alarm when he takes his first steps onto the warm sand.

Knowing what he does of Asterius's parentage – his father, a white bull born of the sea, and his mother Pasiphae, half Oceanid – Hypnos has a hunch that Asterius will feel drawn to the sea. Even setting his parentage aside, the kid was born on an island. And even setting all of _that_ aside, there isn’t a child in all of creation that can resist the mischievous allure of the ocean.

After a period of tentative curiosity, Asterius’s reservations vanish, and he plays in Sleep Incarnate’s best likeness of a beach while Hypnos supervises under a poppy red umbrella from the shore.

One benefit of doing his work in the realm of dreams, Hypnos considers, is that dreams operate on a different timescale than the waking world. Poor Thanatos has to race against the hourglass to collect each soul as its mortal vessel dies, but with a moderate effort, Hypnos can make a power nap last for days, within the confines of a dream.

Asterius returns to Hypnos on the shore with his hands full of shells and stones and small sea creatures. At his earnest request, Hypnos tells him the names of each one.

When Hypnos feels the pull of consciousness encroaching and realizes he has to go, Asterius hugs his legs. Hypnos’s heart breaks all over again.

–

The next night finds Asterius sleeping on a dark surface – more void at a glance, but upon closer inspection, Hypnos identifies it as flat, black stone. Progress!

And beside him flows a quiet stream, and a few dim flowers swaying on an unfelt breeze.

Asterius greets Hypnos enthusiastically, and he lays his head in Hypnos’s lap and tells the God of Sleep how he found a stream of fresh water in the labyrinth and was finally able to quench his thirst. Hypnos listens attentively to his eager chatter, building a garden around them in the meanwhile: lush green hedges and flagstone paths and vined trellises and a tumult of bright and striking flowers and fruit-bearing trees.

Hypnos dusts his hands off unnecessarily when he is done manifesting the world, and Asterius leaps to his feet and darts into the vibrant scene with innocent amazement, as if he was waiting for Hypnos to open a gate and give him permission to do so.

–

Each time Hypnos returns to Asterius, he finds the child’s mind clinging to the last dream they shared, huddled in the dark. He considers telling Asterius that he can make his own dreams, but he still hasn’t figured out why the process didn’t come naturally to the kid in the first place. What if he _can’t_ make his own dreams? Misleading Asterius would just upset him, and Hypnos can only imagine how lonely and upsetting the child’s waking hours must be in that damn labyrinth. The last thing Hypnos wants to do is add to the kid's worries.

He’s been wanting to ask about it, since memories are a strong foundation for dreams. Using the labyrinth as a foundation for a pleasant dream might help Asterius cope with his waking hours, fortified by fond memories of time spent there with Hypnos. And it may be the revelatory experience Asterius needs to begin crafting his own dreams. But Hypnos can’t bring himself to ask Asterius about the prison he lives in.

The issue imposes itself between them regardless, when Hypnos arrives for their nightly dreamsharing and finds Asterius in tears. Hypnos is struck by a bolt of protective instinct and unfamiliar panic, and without thinking he quickly bundles Asterius in his arms and takes him away from his own dark, empty dream.

It is said that Hypnos resides in a palace built upon the Lethe, for the God of Sleep shares a rapport with those waters, and this is why in sleep one forgets all their worldly troubles. The truth is very close to this. Such a palace does exist, but only in the realm of dreams, and this is precisely what Hypnos prefers. Nobody bothers him here, and the negotiability of time within dreams makes any residence therein far more desirable than one in the material world. Why request or go the trouble of constructing a dwelling of his own, when the halls of the House of Hades serve just as well? Why stake a claim on a physical space, when it means people will just come calling uninvited, as Hypnos gathers this is the purpose of residences? Certainly Lord Hades gets no respite from the interminable flow of guests!

Hypnos has only ever brought Thanatos here when they were children, and no one since then. 

The modest palace is circular. When viewed from above it resembles the moon, its crescent interior cradling the smaller circle of an open-air courtyard.

Of the courtyard: monolithic columns of bone white marble encircle its outer boundary, and from that curved edge one might (unwisely) dip their toes into the gently flowing Lethe. Shapely vases burst with calmly nodding red poppies, spaced evenly between each column. Every other fixture in the courtyard is an accessory of repose: solid wooden benches, upholstered chaise lounges, blanketed niches, all draped and adorned with rich fabrics and embroidered pillows.

A perpetual twilight enshrouds the whole, and a tranquil silence, save the shuddering foliage of the gloomy yews which favor the leeward side of the palace, opposite the Lethe.

It is to this courtyard that Hypnos brings Asterius. The palace is fully formed when he arrives; it is the one dreamscape he has never had to make twice, its halls so oft-trodden that he could traverse them in – well, in his sleep. He settles onto a rich red chaise lounge as he shushes and whispers comfort, and Asterius clings to Hypnos and cries as Hypnos gathers his quilted cloak tightly around them.

Hypnos’s panic abates only to make way for niggling worry. Did Asterius have a nightmare? Is he injured? Hypnos can only stroke Asterius’s arms and back, the way Pasiphae did to the illusory Asterius, and await the return of the child’s composure so he can address the problem.

After a long while, Asterius’s cries have quieted to hiccups and hitched breaths and sniffles. Hypnos wipes Asterius’s tears away with the edge of his quilted cloak, for all the good it does, as they are soon replaced by more. “What’s wrong, Asterius?”

Asterius sniffs. "I'm really, _really_ hungry," he says in a wavering whisper.

"No one's…? There's no food in the labyrinth?" Hypnos asks, and kicks himself. Of course there isn't – 

Asterius shakes his head. Hypnos sighs in sorrow and places a hand between Asterius's horns. Mortals the world over use sleep to pass the long hours of sickness or injury in peace, and this, at least, is within Hypnos’s power to give the child. As softly as a feather alighting upon it, Hypnos enters Asterius’s mind and evicts his hunger and discomfort. "There, now – is that any better?"

Asterius nods, but his tears are slow to stop. Hypnos folds Asterius into his embrace and lets him cry his fill.

–

Hypnos does not entirely know the extent of his own powers.

Death and Sleep are such natural and nebulous states of being that he and Thanatos have… kind of had to make things up as they muddle along? Godhood isn’t exactly an apprenticeship, and there’s not a lot of preexisting documentation for this sort of thing! Death is much more complicated than Sleep, and in this regard Hypnos will eagerly acknowledge Thanatos had it worse than him, growing up.

There isn’t a lot of room for trial and error in his dear brother’s profession, after all.

And if someone _sleeps_ wrong, the consequences of that are…? Oh well! Try again tomorrow night!

Fortunately, primordial instinct helps them along: an as-needed intuition for what they can do and how to tap into it, whenever a situation arises where they need to turn their power to a new and novel purpose.

It is in this way that Hypnos suddenly realizes he is capable of placing Asterius in an enchanted sleep.

Asterius won’t feel hunger, thirst, or discomfort if Hypnos does this. It won’t even stunt his growth. It’s hard to find a downside, frankly. And until Hypnos can figure out how to feed or free Asterius, it’s the best solution he has.

Asterius prefers the open air – Hypnos might have guessed – so Hypnos does not usher him into the, in his opinion, much cozier interior rooms of the palace. Instead he settles Asterius into a mound of blankets and pillows, and he conjures up a few wooden animals for him to play with. Thus settled, he informs Asterius he’ll return shortly and makes a beeline for one of the flower vases.

With a handful of red poppies, Hypnos flits over and flutters down to Asterius’s side.

“Asterius.” Asterius blinks up at Hypnos, his gaze darting down to Hypnos’s palmsful of poppies. “Would you like to stay here for a while?”

Asterius sets the wooden animals down and tilts his head, ears twitching. Ah, this kid is too cute…! “You mean until I wake up…?” 

Hypnos tilts his own head indecisively from side to side. Technically, _yes,_ but… “What I mean is, I want to use a little magic to make you sleep for– ah, for as long as you want!” He almost said ‘forever’, before thankfully thinking better of it. Sure, it _could_ be forever, if that’s what Asterius wants – but it doesn’t _have_ to be, necessarily. And it wouldn’t do much good to confront Asterius with the daunting concept of eternity just now.

Thankfully, Asterius is far too interested in the first half of Hypnos’s sentence to question the fumble he made in the second half. “You can use magic? Like Mother?”

It is Hypnos’s turn to blink. He supposes it’s only natural, what with Pasiphae being half-Oceanid – but now, of course, he is curious. “Your Mother can use magic?”

Asterius nods enthusiastically. “Mother said she put a spell on Father to make snakes bite him, if he tries to let anyone else sleep in Mother’s bed.”

Hypnos chokes on a snorting laugh. _Blood and darkness,_ he thinks with admiration. _Pasiphae, you viper!_ “This spell isn’t quite like that,” Hypnos says, working hard to repress more laughter. “It’s a nice spell – no snakes! – and I made it just for you! It’ll give you peaceful sleep and sweet dreams. And you won’t be hungry!”

 _And I won’t let anything happen to you while you’re asleep,_ says an ironclad conviction taking root in Hypnos’s heart.

Asterius looks intrigued and relieved by this explanation. “All right,” Asterius accepts. “Do I have to do anything?”

Hypnos shakes his head. “Just sit still for a moment.” Asterius settles back into the blankets and pillows, and Hypnos smiles his approval. “Perfect! You’re a natural.”

Asterius giggles, and Hypnos crushes the poppies between his palms, opens his hands, and blows the torn petals gently toward Asterius. Red plant matter tickles Asterius’s nose and kisses his forehead, making Asterius squint and snort gently. Then the petals dissipate, and Asterius’s eyes glitter faintly with the effects of the enchanted opiate.

“Good job, little guy,” Hypnos says encouragingly. He pats the top of Asterius’s head. “How’re you feeling?”

Asterius yawns, a wobbly high-pitched sound that warbles along Hypnos’s heartstrings. Too cute! “Tired,” he says, and rubs his eyes with his fist.

Hypnos simultaneously has an innate understanding of the logistics of dreams within dreams, and does not want to touch that recursive thought with a ten foot pole. “Totally understandable! Why don’t I help you bed down, hm?”

Hypnos tucks Asterius into the blanket mound and, impulsively, kisses the top of Asterius’s head. He’s not sure where that came from – something fond and protective and warm unfurling in his chest when he looked down at Asterius’s sleepily smiling face.

“... you going?” Asterius mumbles, and Hypnos smiles, painfully endeared.

“Not yet. I’ll be right here with you.”

Asterius yawns again. “Okay. G’night, Hypnos.”

Hypnos lays down beside Asterius and throws his quilted cloak over the both of them. “Good night, Asterius,” he whispers – but Asterius is already snoring softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! :)
> 
> as an fyi: after a few days of conferring with my genealogy expert [moss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosspiglet), i have made changes to chapter 1 to reflect the correct (for my purposes) birth order of Minos's children. in case you don't feel like going back, it's this (in order of birth/succession):
> 
> 1\. Catreus & Deucalion (sources conflict on which of these two is first in line, so they're twins now)  
> 2\. Androgeus  
> 3\. Asterius  
> 4\. Ariadne  
> 5\. Phaedra
> 
> and there'll probably be another update within a week! thank u sweet readers for ur patience


	4. stranger to anguish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY I KNOW IT'S CHRISTMAS AND I ONLY GIVE YOU HURT, but the turning point is next chapter, so please hang in there!

Hypnos is nervous when he goes to tell Pasiphae.

He’s never lulled anyone into a potentially eternal sleep before, and he’s worried it will have been the wrong decision. That she’ll criticize his choice, or question his judgment. It’s tempting to avoid telling her at all, but Hypnos wouldn’t be feeling this anxious if he didn’t feel obligated to keep her apprised of Asterius’s situation – and it is that sense of obligation which makes him enter her dreams the instant she’s sleeping deeply enough to speak with him, sitting on a stone bench in a grand and sprawling garden.

Whenever Hypnos senses he is not in Lord Hades’ good graces, he simply brings his blithely lackadaisical detachment to bear – until Lord Hades tires of Hypnos’s irrepressible cheer and waves him away with a defeated look on his face.

His usual strategy for rebuffing criticism is unthinkable now – though he’s a little embarrassed by what he ends up doing instead.

Instead, Hypnos impulsively kneels before Queen Pasiphae, his mind lingering on the etiquette of mortals who come before royalty as he says deferentially, “Your Majesty.”

Of course, Hypnos is _not_ mortal – and accordingly, Queen Pasiphae frowns down at him as he kneels in the grass.

“Lord Hypnos,” she replies bemusedly. “It is unbecoming for a god to prostrate himself thus. You are not my vassal, so why do you kneel?”

Though the gesture was undertaken on impulse, Pasiphae’s question prompts Hypnos to realize it _does_ have a purpose. “Because I act in your service, Your Majesty.”

Pasiphae straightens. “Asterius,” she says.

Hypnos nods.

Pasiphae rolls her eyes and huffs. “Oh, get up off the ground, you silly thing!” And she kneels before him and hoists him to standing – or floating, as it were. Hypnos blinks as she dusts illusory grass from his cloak and her skirts. “Come along, then, and tell me of my son.”

Hypnos follows Pasiphae through the garden, admiring the clarity and specificity of her dreamscape. Amid the rich greens and earthy browns, vivid flowers of orange and magenta sway in a rare breeze. Most dreams, Hypnos finds, are devoid of physical sensation – and yet he has not had the privilege of visiting _any_ dream with this much authentic interiority.

Naturally Hypnos is curious about it. But he and Pasiphae have more pressing matters to address.

“Asterius doesn’t have any food,” Hypnos broaches the subject outright. “He was crying from hunger, and I didn’t want him to starve, so I put him in an enchanted sleep.”

Pasiphae’s expression softens only slightly, a tiny glimpse of the great depths of her grief. “He wouldn’t have starved,” she assures Hypnos, “but I am relieved to hear you won’t stand idly by while he suffers.” She stills and turns toward Hypnos, meeting his golden eyes with her sun-warmed brown. She places a hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

Hypnos blinks down at her hand on his forearm. Her skin is the same warm brown as Asterius’s, contrasting singularly with Hypnos’s grey pallor and his gold bracelets. He places his opposite hand over hers, averting his gaze uncertainly. He’s not sure he has ever been the recipient of such overwhelming gratitude before. “O-Of course,” Hypnos says lamely. “I wish I could do more.”

Pasiphae huffs and tosses her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You have done much already. More than any other god would.” And she tucks Hypnos’s arm under her own, so his hand rests in the crook of her elbow. She turns and continues walking, and Hypnos glides behind her like a kite on a gentle breeze.

They walk through the gardens in silence, passing through a pink-flowered archway here, around a softly burbling fountain there, until the curated hedges and meticulously groomed walkways give way to wild shrubs and forest.

“... You said Asterius wouldn’t have starved,” Hypnos remembers, and he circles back to it now.

“Yes. Though it would bring him pain and discomfort, Asterius won’t die of hunger – nor any other natural cause.” 

“Really? How do you know that?”

Pasiphae smiles with something like pride in her eyes. “He has my blood.”

They emerge from the tree line onto a verdant plateau at a cliff’s edge, overlooking the sun-dappled ocean. Hypnos wonders if this is a faithful recreation of the palace grounds of Crete. Perhaps he will ask Pasiphae if it would be a suitable dream for Asterius.

“Nymphs don't die of natural causes either, right? But Asterius is only… one quarter Oceanid?” Hypnos quickly does the math. Surely blood _that_ diluted wouldn’t protect him from the vagaries of mortality?

Pasiphae narrows her eyes at him in amused bewilderment as she releases Hypnos’s elbow, gathers her skirts, and settles down in the grass. “The white bull is, in a sense, a semblance of Poseidon, so arguably he is half Olympian… and a quarter Titan.”

Hypnos is pretty bad at math, but Pasiphae could hardly have spelled it out any simpler than that. “Whoa, whoa, _whoa!_ You’re half Titan?!” he squeaks. “Your Majesty!” He descends to the ground abruptly, as if shocked right out of the air, and he leans forward in enthralled curiosity. No wonder her dreams have such depth and clarity! No wonder her presence is so noble and captivating! Several puzzle pieces fall into place, then – knocking loose a few more in the process. “Wait a second – if you’re half Titan, then why the hell do you have to listen to Minos? Actually, for that matter why are you _married_ to him?! I bet you could wipe the floor with that guy like it was nothing!”

Pasiphae smiles at the compliment, but her laughter holds a bitter note as she says, “Marrying the progeny of Zeus was the ransom paid to prevent me from joining my father in Tartarus.”

“Ah,” Hypnos says, deflating. He scrubs his hands through his cloudy curls in frustration. “Blood and darkness!” he groans, sprawling on the ground in response to his emotional distress. This sucks!

This _sucks!_

“... Isn’t there anything we can do?” Hypnos mumbles into the grass.

Pasiphae does not respond to that, and the silence of both of them knowing the cruel unspoken answer is unbearable. A gentle hand lands upon Hypnos's head. Pasiphae’s touch strokes through his cloudy halo of hair, and Hypnos blushes at – at being so outwardly mothered by someone who isn’t Nyx. Hypnos is much older than Pasiphae! Still… She must know that perfectly well. The only thing pointing that out would accomplish would be to discourage her from continuing.

And… he kind of doesn’t want her to stop? It feels nice – being comforted by someone who knows what’s going on with Asterius. Because Nyx certainly doesn’t know. Hypnos isn’t going out of his way to deliberately conceal this from her or anything, but when he considers how to broach the subject he only comes up with a blank.

What would he even say?

‘Hello Mother, while I was sleeping I met a child in my dreams who doesn’t know how to make his own dreams, and his circumstances are so tragic that it’s making me sad and anxious all the time’?

Well… maybe that _would_ work? But he’s not sure if this sort of thing falls under Nyx's oft-repeated chastisement of, “You should make an effort to be more independent, Hypnos. I cannot solve all your problems for you.”

Now that he thinks about it… Gods don’t generally go around getting involved with mortals on behalf of _other_ gods. Hypnos gets the sense that this is exactly the sort of problem he’s expected to solve on his own. If he wants to demonstrate his ‘godly favor’ for Asterius and Pasiphae, then that makes it his responsibility to get the ball rolling.

And to get the ball rolling, he needs information.

"So I'm guessing yours being a ransom marriage means you can't oppose Minos's decisions," Hypnos ventures.

Pasiphae sighs quietly. Hypnos looks up at her and sees her gazing out across the calm ocean. "Not directly."

Hypnos shifts into a more comfortable position, folding his arms to make a pillow under his head. Pasiphae's hand stills before it continues. "Can you tell me more about the labyrinth?"

Pasiphae nods. 

"Catreus, Deucalion, Androgeus, and my husband and I live in this palace at Knossos." Pasiphae gestures inland, confirming Hypnos’s suspicion that they are on the palace grounds. "The town of Gortyn is a day's travel south. And near there, at a location I am not permitted to know, I am given to understand there is a system of caves."

Hypnos frowns. "Caves?" For some reason he had imagined something like a hedge maze, but made of stone or brick, and appointed with much higher walls. Open to the sky, at least, even if it were inescapable. But…

"Yes," says Pasiphae, and her eyes nearly close with her solemn downward gaze. Her eyelashes shine with dew. "It used to be a stone quarry. Daedalus spelled its interior into something convolute, and constructed at its entrance an enchanted door. Only my miserable husband can open it."

Hypnos stills. He feels as if a weighted blanket has been laid across his shoulders.

He had known Asterius was alone. He had known he was sad, and lonely, and hungry. But because Hypnos assumed that Asterius at least had the _sky,_ it… It had still been sad, and Hypnos had been sympathetic.

But he hadn't _understood._

Pasiphae's touch in Hypnos’s hair stills, and she looks up at the sky. Her other hand lifts, palm upward, to catch a few soft droplets of rain.

Hypnos imagines young Asterius, dragged into the labyrinth by one of Minos's loyal servants. A rope around the lead ring in his nose – yanking mercilessly on the new piercing, inflamed and tender.

Abandoned, then. Left alone in the cold, dripping silence.

Stumbling in the dark. Scraping his little hands on the sharp cave walls, catching himself roughly on the unyielding stone floor. Spending days chasing the sound and smell of running water, in a cave bespelled to mislead and misdirect. In total darkness.

Asterius is fine, Hypnos reminds himself. Asterius is sleeping now. He isn't trapped alone in the dark any more. He's playing with wooden animals and building pillow forts in Hypnos’s palace by the Lethe.

But he hadn't…

He…

Hypnos's shoulders tremble, and Pasiphae looks down at him in quiet alarm. He thinks he understands, now – the broken sob that had crawled like a dying thing out of Pasiphae's throat when Hypnos showed her the illusory Asterius. Her weeping and compulsive need to touch her child, assure herself he was truly there. He feels even worse for showing that to her, knowing now the depths of her grief. Hypnos suddenly longs to return to Asterius's side, gripped by the same impulse he had seen on Pasiphae's face then.

The impulse makes no sense, and it certainly wouldn't help anything to indulge it. Asterius doesn't need to see Hypnos crying.

Blood and darkness, what is the matter with him?

The rain picks up, and Hypnos’s face crumples, and a cry bursts forth from his trembling lips.

"Hypnos," says Pasiphae softly. She is unconcerned by the rain, allowing it to dampen her hair and roll down her neck and soak her robes. Her attention is focused on Hypnos completely.

"I'm sorry," Hypnos whimpers, his high and light voice breaking on the tight heartache in his throat.

Pasiphae pulls Hypnos into her lap, and Hypnos wraps his long arms around her waist and weeps into her skirt, and the illusory rain beats down on them. It is the first time Hypnos has truly felt the rain, due in no small part to the vividity of Pasiphae's dreams.

The rain is heavy, and cold.

**Author's Note:**

> there is now [a promo post for this on tumblr](), if you guys are interested in that sort of thing!


End file.
